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03/19/10(Fri)18:55 No.8669578rolled 3, 5, 2 = 10
It's funny, how real it all is. Here you are, in a world of war and magic, skipping along in a body made by gods. This is your 'normal' now. This is what life is like in your environment. The trees pass more and more rapidly as you gain speed, testing out your new legs. They seem longer, thinner, untrained. You'll have to fix that last part.
The days rush by as you travel, hunting for food with a makeshift spear. It's like old times, when you first arrived, surviving on instinct in an unfamiliar land. Nostalgic, in a way. With a little help from Hretmar, you make it through, passing burnt clearings where Demons once arose from the earth, sneaking past outposts once a flurry of activity. You reach Dreamwood, not two weeks out, with your helpful god heralding your return.
You come home. Everyone, from the oldest to the youngest, has turned out to see you. You walk through the palisade like a conquering hero, to cheers of adoration and welcome. Dreman shouts that he's re-making your crossbow, with the best material he can find. Vasian tells you he's found out about some things you might want to know, as do the twins. The elders then inform you that Jerith will be back in a week or so, all amidst the roar of the small crowd. But none of it seems very important to you right now.
There is one person among the hundred who stands out. Who looks, not at you, but at the ground , silent and with a blank face. You gravitate toward him, blocking out the praises and questions of the others, moving forward while the rest trail behind. His eyes reach yours as you come to a stop, smiling despite yourself.
“I... suppose you opened the box,” he says sheepishly, to which you nod. “I hope you like the ring.” A painful pause. “It's yours, Maya. You don't have to do anything you don't want to.” |